Chapter 3: A Hard Day

Just before dawn, Spike woke with a sore, but stiffening, cock. The young biker had spent much of the night in an orgy of sex with Helen, the older of the two women abducted the day before. He had taken some powder, and some pills, to ensure he would not disappoint his bedmate. She now lay, naked and unmoving, on her back, beside him. The businesswoman sprawled on the stained mattress of the big brass bed. She slept the sleep of exhaustion. Her legs were spread wide as if to invite further penetration but one hand covered her swollen and painfully tender vagina, in mute protest. The other cradled a sticky, bruised, bosom.

Spike stirred. He propped himself up on one elbow and was about to rouse the sleeping beauty when he felt a soft hand close around his fat, tumescent, cock. Katrina was awake too.

"Let Helen sleep," whispered the teenager. She pumped his morning glory."Why don't you fuck me, instead?" Katrina tried a bright smile. "Or perhaps you'd like me to... er..." she touched her pink lips.

Spike grinned. Katrina was on her elbows and knees. Her round pink-tipped breasts bobbed and swayed in time to the rhythmic action of her wrist.

Katrina had spent most of the night dozing, huddled under the bed's single blanket. She had tried not to listen to the gross demands Spike made of Helen. Demands which the petite blonde had done everything she could to satisfy. Her stepmother had said that she would play the slut, and try to spare Katrina the sexual attentions of their captors. But nothing in the businesswoman's experience could have prepared her for Spike, greedy for sex, high on drugs, and damn-near permanently erect. Nevertheless she had done everything the tubby biker wanted with seeming enthusiasm. Only once, during the orgy of violent sex, did Spike involve Katrina in the action. He was screwing Helen doggy fashion, and thought it would be good if Katrina licked his swinging scrotum as he plundered her stepmother from the rear.

Spike now reached for the young woman's pendent breasts with one hand, and her long black hair with the other. He caressed each plump tit quite tenderly, and guided her head toward his groin, where Katrina's hand had resurrected his boner. She stretched her lips to engorge the head of Spike's stiff cock... The fleshy organ filled her mouth. Katrina, still pumping with her hand, tried to massage the head with her tongue. Spike groaned with pleasure.

Katrina began to choke. Spike sensed her rising discomfort and laughed. "Too big for you, Kid?" he said.

The teenager tried to pull away from the task she had so rashly undertaken in order to grant her stepmother some much needed sleep. Spike, grinned wickedly, and put his both of hands on the back of her head, and forced it down, driving his meat deep into the teenager's throat. Katrina, who had not done this before, choked and panicked. Her resistance excited Spike, who began to push hard with his hips, as he felt his cock slide down the young woman's throat.

Unable to call out, or breathe properly, Katrina began to flail at Spike with her arms. One wild swipe hit Helen's bruised ribs, and the little blonde woke up with a cry of pain. She saw what was happening and swiftly moved to the rescue.

"Be careful, Spike!" She cried hoarsely, "The kid can't do that like me. She doesn't know how! She could bite you, by accident! You'd have to have stitches! What would Ma say to that?"

Spike released Katrina's head and the girl rolled off him, choking and spluttering with tears streaming from her eyes. The biker grabbed her and flung himself on top of the terrified teenager.

"Spread 'em!" he snarled. Katrina's leg's parted. Spike's wet and dripping erection hovered above the young woman's cunt. He fingered her puffy labia. Helen tried to come to the rescue again. She laid her head on her stepdaughter's belly, and guided Spike's throbbing organ into her mouth, a few inches above Katrina's carefully plucked pudenda. Skilfully, she massaged Spike's cock with her lips, tongue, and hands, until the overweight young man was quivering with anticipation.

Helen was sure that he would come in her mouth, as he had several times during the long night, but this time she was wrong. Milliseconds before the dam burst, he pulled his cock out of Helen's eager mouth and, with a cry of, "Take this, you prick-teasing little bitch!" he rammed it deep into the cringing body of the frightened teenager, and came, in several juddering spasms.

When he had gone, locking the door behind him, the women climbed off the bed and helped each-other wash and dress. They didn't speak. Katrina gave Helen a hug, which caused the older woman to wince. Her bruised ribs hurt. From her suitcase, Helen chose pants, slacks, and a tee shirt. Katrina managed to fit into a pair of Helen's stretch jeans, and one of her loose cotton tops. Both women were dressed when Ma unlocked the door of the bedroom, and told them to get downstairs for breakfast.

Breakfast was served in the old farmhouse kitchen. The stone-paved room was cold despite the sunshine outside and the antique wood-fired stove that occupied one wall. The furniture - solid wooden chairs, table, and plain, panelled, cupboards - was functional. The small un-curtained windows were barred. Spike and Mark Outhwaite, both dressed in faded blue overalls, were sitting at the large wooden table. Spike was eating a huge plateful of ham and eggs and freshly baked bread. Mark had a bowl of oatmeal. The same grey mush was given to the women. Katrina, normally a fussy eater, spooned down the tasteless goo eagerly. Helen was unable to do more than peck at her food. Her throat hurt from a blow Ma had given her the day before.

Ma sat down at the head of the table in front of a plate of ham and eggs every bit as big as Spike's. Between mouthfuls, Ma gave her orders for the day.

"Spike, take Mark to Pigboy. He can help the dummy clean up the old pens. That should keep him busy! Then you, cut some wood. Mark can stack it, when Pigboy has finished with him."

Ma forked in a load of thick ham, smothered in egg yolk."And tell Pigboy he's not to play with Mark. Not yet. I've still got a use for the city slicker!"

Ma ate. "Barbie, you can clean the cellar where your old man has spent the night. There's blood, and shit, and vomit. He's a messy bugger, but eager to please. Aren't you, Henry?" Helen noticed the cattle prod was close to Ma's right hand.

Mark looked up, startled. "Yes, Ma," he gabbled. "I'm eager to please." Ma chewed another morsel.

"Kid, you can do the dishes, and when you've finished you can scrub the kitchen floor. I'll be in here from time to time, so if you slack I'll beat the daylights out of you. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma, I understand," replied Katrina eyeing the cattle prod.

"That's good," said Ma, mopping her plate with a lump of fresh white bread. "Any questions?"

"One or two!" croaked Helen.

"Yeah?" said Ma ominously.

"How long have you been pulling this stunt? Staging a breakdown, recovering the vehicle, stealing it, and abducting the occupants?"

Ma grinned at the dainty blonde. "The Butchers have been here a long time, Barbie. Guess my great grand-daddy was the first to syphon the juice out of an automobile then offer a tow to the poor suckers stranded on the roadside. Must have been the 1930s. During the Depression."

"So there have been hundreds of disappearances?"

"More'n a thousand, Barbie, over the years. And none of them traced to the Butcher family. See, we've got this system. Pat has driven your Merc to the coast. We've got connections there. It will be exported, probably to China. Our agent, a cousin of mine, will then take your credit cards, cell-phones, other disposable items like your Rolex, jewelry and pearls, the Kid's DVD player, the checks Mark made out to 'cash', to another big city. He'll book you in to a fine hotel, dispose of the goods, then go home. You will have vanished into the underworld of a metropolis. A mystery a busy police force will soon label, 'too fucking hard', and forget."

Helen glared at Ma, "How long..."she began but her voice cracked and she wasn't able to finish the sentence.

"Like I told you, Barbie, as long as you're useful!" Ma stood up. "Now, who told you whores you could wear pants? Get 'em off. While you're working around the house the boys and I like to see a bit of pink."

Helen and Katrina peeled of their slacks and panties. Ma took the clothes and stuffed them in a cupboard and the work-day began. As Spike and Mark shuffled out of the kitchen, Ma attached Katrina to a ring-bolt in the floor, next to the sink, with a length of light steel chain. The free end was wrapped tightly around the girl's waist, and secured with a brass padlock. Then she pushed Helen through the kitchen door, and down a corridor, to the cellar entrance.